If I Could Turn Back Time
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Emily comforts Hotch in the aftermath of Haley's death. Written in response to Angel N Darkness, LacytheDemonicDuck and Princess Altetheia's Song Fic Challenge. Co-auth'd w/tonnie2001969


_**Author's Note: Tonnie and I decided it was time to support our fanfic friends, Angel N Darkness, Princess Alteheia, and LacytheDemonicDuck in their Song Prompt Challenge. Go check it out guys and join their fun. As ever, Tonnie and I don't own Criminal Minds.**_

**If I Could Turn Back Time**

Emily Prentiss frowned as she stared through the glass window into Aaron Hotchner's office. Glancing at her watch, she sighed. It was after eight. He should have gone home hours ago. Although, she could understand why he didn't. She'd heard him telling Rossi earlier that Jack was staying overnight at his aunt's house this evening. Something about a slumber party tonight and a cousin's birthday party tomorrow. And she knew firsthand how lonely an empty apartment could be.

Biting her lower lip, she debated simply slipping out, holding to her own schedule. Hotch had made it clear over the past several weeks that he had no intention of allowing his personal life to affect his professional decisions, and had given her no indication of changing that plan of action now. The only person she even observed him even come close to confiding in was Rossi, and he was gone for the night. She could call him, she supposed. But that would mean a trip back to the office for him, and she was already here, wasn't she? She was perfectly capable of knocking on an office door and sticking her head inside and checking on Hotch. The boss didn't bite, she reminded herself. He snarled. He snapped. But he didn't bite.

At least, to her knowledge, he hadn't yet.

Praying that tonight wasn't the night that the lion finally mauled the gazelle, Emily tapped gently against the closed door, watching through the open blinds as his head jerked up from the framed photograph on his desk. Opening the door as she heard his muffled shout, Emily stuck her head inside. "Hey, just wanted to check on you before I left for the evening. You need anything, Hotch?"

"Only if you can explain to me how to turn back time," he muttered morosely, dropping his gaze back to the picture on his desk, uncharacteristically providing a window into his normally tightly closed soul.

It wasn't exactly an invitation to a conversation, but, on the other hand, he hadn't told her to get out of his office either. Sliding inside, she shook her head, keeping her voice easy and even. "Nope, sorry. No magical powers regarding the reversal of time. But I am a pretty good listener if you want to share."

Shaking his head grimly, his eyes never wavering from the picture on his desk, he stated quietly, "What is there to say, Emily? I killed my wife."

"George Foyet murdered your wife, Hotch," Emily said, quietly firm in her articulation as her steps led her closer to the wooden desk.

"Because of my pride," Hotch replied darkly, his lips twitching as he fought a wave of emotion. "And there are times, like now, where if I could turn back time, I'd walk away. I'd take the deal."

"That's grief talking," Emily denied, dropping into the chair in front of his neat, polished desk, clear of everything save a blotter and that frame that she knew held a photograph of a smiling family, father, mother and son filling the frame.

Staring at the gilt-framed picture, Hotch grimaced, the happy, smiling faces mocking him from their glass covered enclosure. "Is it?" Hotch murmured. "Sometimes, I'm not so sure. There are times that I'm absolutely positive I made the biggest mistake of my life by not giving into his demands. She'd still be here if I'd just turned away...looked the other way."

"And let a serial killer go free," Emily snorted, pursing her lips a she felt every fiber in her body stiffen at that thought. "Not you, Hotch. Not in any universe. And if I know that about you, you can bet your last breath that Haley knew it, too."

"I thought I was doing what was best," he murmured, his eyes moving toward the darkened window of his office, the blackness seeping over the sill, shadows falling around him.

"You were," Emily averred softly. "You are," she stressed, leaning forward, her body angling against itself. "You're doing exactly what Haley would have wanted, I think. You're giving your little boy a loving and stable home."

"One day, he's going to blame me, Emily," Hotch worried, his voice a breath of sound in the still room. "He's going to look at me and see the man that signed his mother's death warrant."

"I disagree," Emily shrugged, shaking her head, her dark hair sliding over her shoulders as she kept her eyes focused on him, his melancholy attempting to settle around him like a shroud. "I think he'll see a father that moved heaven and earth to keep his family safe. I think he'll see a man that sacrificed almost as much as his mother did for those around him."

"And I think you're full of shit," Hotch muttered gruffly, his blunt language foreign even to his own ears, his civil niceties tamped down under his dark thoughts.

"Perhaps," Emily said lightly, deliberately countering his tone and expression. "I was raised by a couple of diplomats with political ambitions. But I also happen to believe I'm right in this instance." Rising, she sighed as she stared at his bent dark head. "I guess the bottom line is that time doesn't go in reverse, Hotch. And it doesn't stand still. Whether any of us like it or not, time marches on. But you have to decide the beat you want to march to." Leaning forward to touch his hand lightly, she reminded him softly, "And know that I'm always here if you need a sounding board skilled in witty repartee."

The mere touch of her skin against his seemed to break some spell, to slide around some barrier that he hadn't even realized had been raised. Inclining his head slightly as he met her darkened, kind eyes, Hotch nodded once as he swallowed hard. "Thanks, Prentiss."

And as she left his office, stepping back into the lights of the bullpen, Emily Prentiss knew she'd done all she could for the disheartened man sitting inside. At least for the moment.

_**finis**_


End file.
